The Once and Future Baby Penguin
by Falco Peregrinus
Summary: Total, ridiculous crack. Glee gets stuck in a farce-fairytale. Excessive Klaine and AVP/S references, other characters as well. Historically inaccurate. Rated M with hyper, sarcastic author.
1. In Which Penis Size Is Discussed

**Sadly, I don't own Glee, so don't sue me. Really, it's not funny. If you want to make me laugh, you may run into things with a bucket on your head. But seriously guys, I own NOTHING in this story. I also do not known Harry Potter or Starkid or any other references I may make.**

**You should be warned that there will be: heterosexuality, bisexuality, homosexuality, sexual confusion, creative profanity, violence, death, blood, sex/smut, crossdressing, awkward conversations between characters that basically boil down to: I-want-to-get-into-your-pants-so-can-we-please-fornicate-now?, genital talk (including arguments over penis size), nudity, AVPM/AVPS references, sheer ridiculousness interspersed with brief, horrible moments of logical and excessive sarcasm. Please review; I like to think I'm funny and not just sitting here, laughing at my own jokes (although I'll do that anyway). Anyway, this is a story of farce and ridiculousness. Take with a grain of salt. Also, there are probably spelling mistakes. I apologize, I am dyslexic nda mosetiems ym rwitign geso ilke htis.**

Once upon a time, there lived an aging king. He had three princes, triplets, and his wife had died shortly after the birth and when the excitement was all said and done, the midwife could not remember which prince was born first. The king had mourned his queen and had remarried. The three princes had loved their stepmother, who was a lovely person and the king moved on and loved his new wife and the spirit of the triplets' mother smiled happily down on the scene below, pleased that her husband had found love of a woman she approved of and happy that her sons were thriving. For eighteen years, all was well and good, but as the boys entered manhood, the king reached a dilemma; it was the law of the land that the eldest prince should take the throne after his father, he was terminally ill and no one knew who the eldest prince was. And so, the king devised a clever plan

He waved his sons into his the throne room.

"Boys, I am dying." He chirped.

The princes looked at each other.

"And this is news because?" David asked.

"Not to steal your thunder, or anything, but your hair's falling out, your urine is bright turquoise and sometimes you think you're a peasant named Bob and you run naked through the grounds." Wed added, as lightly as if they were discussing the weather.

"I inherited Mom's dad's weiner." Blaine added.

"Really boys, your father's weiner is more than sufficient." The queen said with a chuckle. "Short, but with serious breadth, just the way I like it."

The princes all made noises of protests as unbidden images came to their minds. No one wants to think about their parents' sex life.

"Boys, boys, remember, it's not the size, it's…"

"…How you use it." They chimed, like tired schoolboys forced to recite together.

"Very good." The king continued, as if nothing unusual had happened. "Now, as I was saying, I'm dying and one of you has to rule Britannia and sit on the throne of Dalton Castle one day, but no one knows who jumped out of your mother's—God rest her soul—ladyparts first, so we have a problem."

Silence. Then,

"Can I just be Duke of Camelot? But I wanna go to Hogwarts! Hogwarts? I'm going to Pigfarts!" Wes broke out singing "C'est Moi", Wes began to cast the patronus charm and Blaine was rolling around on the floor singing, "Pigfarts, Pigfarts, here I come! Pigfarts, Pigfarts, yum, yum, yum!"

"I feel for my subjects when I die." The king muttered to the queen, before joining in with "Hermione Can't Draw". The queen ignored them all and took the time to catch up on the latest episode of _Desperate Maidens_, waving the players in and watching the entertaining while the men in her family got it all out of their systems. Eventually, the king's alter ego kicked in and he stripped himself of his clothing and ran streaking across the grounds while servants ran after him.

A few hours later, once he had been bathed, wrestled back into his clothing and had recovered his true identity, the king addressed his boys once more.

"The long and short of it is, Britannia will need a new king to sit upon the Dalton throne and so I'm sending you out during my last days to seek your fortune. The prince who comes back with the the greatest tracks of land, most impressive spoils of war and the prettiest princess—"

"Dad, Blainers is gay diddidy gay gay gay." Wes announced.

"I know that. We've all known that since that time he made out with a cutout of Julius Caesar—"

"Augustus Caesar," Blaine corrected, "Sexy Roman beast…I love legionaries..."

"Whoever it was! Just make sure that whatever man, woman or strange alien with a bigger penis than any human's, is prettier than your brothers', 'kay? 'Cause the future queen needs to be pretty."

"But Dad! What if he's manlier than me?" Blaine protested.

"Then you'll both be queens and the female and gay men demographics will love us forever...oh, I like that sound of that." The king shot back. "And also, upon your return, you must come up with the best design for the blazer for your reign. Right, so land, other people's stuff, future queen and a very unfashionable blazer. Now get the fuck out my castle. I and going to die slowly in between having violent sex with your stepmother."

"Get out!" The queen added, ripping off her dress.

The princes didn't need to be told twice and ran sprinting out of the castle and began preparations for their journey.

"You know, his isn't _that_ short." Wes reasoned thoughtfully.

Blaine and David exchanged a look.

"I got grand-dad's penis size, thank you very much." Blaine announced.

"Yeah, you also got his height." David added, mock-spitefully, but Blaine clapped his hands over his ears and began singing loudly again.

"Pigfarts! Pigfarts, here I come! Pigfarts, Pigfarts, yum, yum, yum!"


	2. In Which Faeries Hit the Snooze Button

**Once upon a time...I did not own Glee. Remember, there is a fair amount of offensive humor used in this story. If you are easily offended, please read something else. Thanks and enjoy!**

_There were three beautiful princes, each more beautiful than the last as they mounted their mighty steeds and took off and waved goodbye to each shouting strange things, such as, "Mine is totally bigger than yours!" and "Mine's so big that I have to wear special tights!" I couldn't imagine what they could be referring to. What could interfere with the size of someone's tights? Chastity belts? Well, that settled it, it was a perfectly normal scene involving three boys arguing over who had the biggest and most chaffing chatisty belt. Now that was hot. The dream took a moment to focus on each prince at a time and my dream-state self drunk in the beauty of each man. The first was Asian and he was cute, but I was perplexed by the fact that the second brother appeared to be white and the third appeared to be of Roman descent—oh my Dadga…he was…there wasn't a word I could come up, especially in my sleep, to describe the pure…no, that was sexual, nothing I ever did was sexual, attraction, to this dream-prince. Very slowly, he rode towards me on his pure white stallion and he dismounted. He moved with grace and swagger and even I, a creature of magic, was stunned by his mere presence. He approached me, fixing me with a sultry glare, took my hand in his, bowed and brushed his lips against it. This man, no, he couldn't be mortal…no creature with this sort of grace and…power over me could possibly be mortal… And as he rose, he gave me a nod and then hopped up, undid his trousers and promptly began to take a piss against the nearest tree. Yep, definitely mortal…_

I sat bolt upright as a piercing scream woke me from my slumber. I let out a shriek of my own as my hands flew to my ears. Once I gained full consciousness, I turned to glare at the dark-skinned woman kneeling by the pool and shrieking her lungs out.

"Santana, shut up! I'm up, I'm up!" I snapped, hauling my body down and clambering across our sleeping quarters and squeezing one of her breasts. She stopped, mid-scream and contended herself with pulling out a comb and set about running it through her long black locks. "Who the hell set the banshee for this early?" I demanded, glaring around the room.

The Seelie Court was stirring. We all slept in the same forest glade, protected by surrounding magic. It was next to a waterfall and we all sort of had our own…bower. I slept in a tree with my own platform trailing with flowers and hovering with birds and tiny faeries because I like trees. Okay, actually I have this fantasy that one day this gorgeous faerie will come to woo me from the ground. And when I say faerie, I mean…nevermind…

Our queen, Rachel, slept in a sort of cave-caverny thingy behind the waterfall. She had enchanted the cave to glow with various colors, according to her mood and for the water to shimmer and sparkle, which was really, really distracting. That, and she had magicked a a device that amplified her voice through the forest at all and any hours of the day or night. She had the voice of an angel, admittedly, but there was only so much of Queen Rachel's singing anyone could take before the general public starting wishing upon stars for someone else to get a Dadga-damn solo!

Nestled under the mini-bower provided by the spreading roots of a tree, slept Quinn, the most breath-taking shapeshifter ever to seen, ridiculously beautiful in her true form. Flowers and fluttering trendils of ivy enclosed her sleeping space, a small fountain bubbling a short distance away. Her own personal underling faeries guarded it at all times and rumor had it that it was enchanted water that had the ability to give the drinker eternal youth and beauty, but only if the water was drunk regularly.

Sam, the dumbest faerie to ever flit through Otherworld, was snuggling between some rocks and completely oblivious to his stirring companions, per the usual. He was as beautiful as his sister, Quinn only he had the world's most amazing abs. Unlike her, his shapeshifting abilities were limited to useless things, like toads and maeflies and ameobas.

Then there was Tina. We're not quite sure what she is, but we're guessing she's the result of a romance between a faerie and a banshee. She cries easily, wears a lot of black, but she's so sweet and likes shiny things, so we're not entirely sure. Sometimes she thinks she's a vampire and let me tell you, no one wants to wake up with her nomming on your neck. Either she needs to grow some fangs or someone needs to teach that woman how to properly give hickies. Not that I really know much on the subject, but it's my general impression that you don't just slober all over the person who you're supposed to be hickey-ing and "I vant to suck your bllloooooddd!" isn't sexy. Just saying. Anyway, she sleeps in a dark crevice, filled with candles and spooky music and way too much eye makeup.

And finally, there's Rory. He's Irish and a leprechaun. Or maybe half leprechaun. I never knew they were so tall. But anyway, this is Rory. He's a bass with thoroughly unimpressive false-setto, he likes food, singing songs that somehow connects whatever his current emotion is to a color and he's obsessed with breasts. Like, obsessed. I've never seen a man so easily distracted and I'm surrounded by ADD faeries. He sleeps in this sort of…shrubbery complex with a rainbow enchanted to fall around him.

And I suppose I should mention Santana, our alarm clock. She sleeps in the center of the glade. She's absolutely worthless as a banshee; not once has she ever predicted anyone's death and when she's tried to mourn mortals at their funerals, she always mourns the wrong person! So now she's the alarm clock and as you may have guessed, the only way to turn off the alarm in the mournings is to squeeze one of her boobs. Now, Sam and Rory were both thrilled when they heard this news, but she'll only let me or one of the girls touch her, which is probably wise, otherwise, all we'd hear all morning would be the shriek going off and on as the straight boys likened their morning duties to popping bubble wrap. And that is why I thank Dadga she's a lesbian.

Quinn was stirring, tossing back her perfect golden locks and muttering about how ugly she looked as she proceeded to her pool, Rory was sitting bolt-upright, his hands strategically hiding his crotch as he stared at the boob I had squeezed and Sam was still snoring loudly. We all knew better than to disturb Tina, as she had this really creepy habit of sleeping in an actual coffin. Weirdo. I made my way to Sam and delivered a swift but harmless kick to his ribs and he mumbled and rolled over. I did it again. This time I got a grunt in response. I rolled my eyes and bent down, picked up a stick and poked him in the crotch with it.

"Mmmmm…Henrietta…" He mumbled.

"Henrietta? Eww, that's not the mortal chick with the herpes, right?"

Sam cracked an eye and looked down at the sapling tree jutting out from between his legs. He wiggled away and opened his mouth to tell me for the millionth time to stop poking him with sticks (hey, as long as it wasn't _my_ stick it was effective) when another piercing scream penetrated the glad.

Rachel appeared at the entrance to her cavern-bedroom. She appeared to be halfway through her morning ritual when she came barreling through the glade and pressed herself against me with another dramatic shriek. I patted her on the back unenthusiastically before I began the laborious process of peeling her off me.

"What now?" I wanted to know.

"Kuuuuurrrrtttttt!" She whined, "Excaliber's gone!"

Another horrible shriek sounded from the center of the glade as Santana started going at it again.

"Kkkkuuuuurrrrrttttt!" Rachel whined for the second time, "How many times to I have to tell you, the left boob is the snooze button!"


	3. In Which Sebastian Is A Hufflepuff

**I still don't own Glee, A Very Potter Musical, Merlin BBC or the world in general *le sigh*. A guy can dream, I guess. But, moving right along, so much out of characterness and AU-ness. So yeah...enjoy. Lots of cursing and genital references as usual.**

Prince Blaine was headed North, riding upon his albino stallion, his manservant riding behind him and clapping a pair of coconuts as they road along at a steady jog. They continued to ride along, stopping at "certain inns" and watching women take off all their clothing and being thoroughly unimpressed by it all, sticking tampons up the noses of sleeping ogres and then running away giggling like schoolboys and making small children stand aside while they took up all the road. There was also some gambling, a lot of drinking and once they smoked something that made them intensely interested in their own hands. In other words, they were doing exactly everything but seeking Prince Blaine's fortune.

They were now well into the territory of Caledonia, the Northern-most area of Albion that would come to be known as Scotland, one day far into the future. They had spent the day acting like total perverts after adopting the sport of "kilt-peeping", which involved lying on the ground and…well…everyone knowns that the only proper way to wear a kilt is to go totally commando. They were soaked, smelled like grass, mud and horsesweat and Blaine was giggling like a schoolboy, while his manservant did his best to humor him. He wasn't type for such childish activities, but as long as it made his master happy, he would participate in a heartbeat.

Darkness had fallen and it had begun to rain as the two arrived at an inn. Without a second glance, Blaine jumped off his horse, splattering himself in the mud as he did so and passed the reins to his manservant, who was still sitting securely atop his mount, surveying the inn with distaste.

"Charming find, I'm starving!" Blaine commented.

The building could barely be described as charming. The structure was run-down and extremely worse-for-wear, in fact, it look like it would collapse at any moment. It was held up by a series of rotten wooden beams sunk into the unstable mud and the wood throughout was eaten through by termites, looking like Swiss cheese.

"Surely you can't be serious, Blaine." Sebastion commented, taking the reins of Blaine's horse.

Blaine's hand was poised to knock on the door.

"Why, what's wrong with it?"

"It's a shithole! …M'lord…" He ammended, quickly. He and the prince were on first-name, casual terms by now, but he was in the habit of not watching his mouth…and then washing it out with soap, but only when Blaine was present.

"Nonsense, Sebastian, take the horses around back, I'll get us a table." Blaine answered, good-naturedly.

"But—"

"No butts! Unless they belong to attractive men."

Sebastian felt the familiar jab in the pit of his stomach as he led the horse's around with the stable and found two stalls and untacked them. He had been Blaine's manservant for three years now. He had been fifteen and apprenticed to a silversmith, but when the man died, Sebastian had gone to Dalton Castle in search of work. Orphaned at a tender age and now out of work, surely the king wouldn't turn one of his own away? And he hadn't been disappointed as he had been given a paid position as Prince Blaine's personal manservant. Sebastian's first impression of Blaine was that he was attractive, but nothing special, (he would have much rather have been assigned to his brother Wes, 'cause...hubba hubba…) but as time went on, Sebastian was first fascinated, then deeply smitten and absolutely head over heels in love with the prince, who was either oblivious or wasn't interested and feigned oblivion to spare his servant's feelings. Sebastian never tired of Blaine's puppy dog-like energy as he bounced around getting into trouble. Sebastian only half participated in the mischief, but he was by Blaine's side through every childish triumph or failure.

Snapping out of his daydream of the prince's face when they had run from an enraged troll, Sebastian closed the stable doors and made his way into the inn. He didn't have to scan the room to find Blaine, for the prince was already dancing on one of the tables, tankard in hand. As he rolled his eyes and fought his way across the room, Sebastian knew that Blaine probably wasn't even all the way drunk yet.

"Alright, alright, time to get off the table, Your Highness."

"Nuuuooooo!" Blaine whined, dancing deftly out of reach of Sebastian's snatching hands.

"You need rest."

"I wanna dance!"

"Blaine!"

"Whhhheeeeeee!"

Sebastian slumped in defeat and sank into a chair closeby. He needed to get his master to eat and rest and otherwise act like a civilized person. At least, that was what he _should_ be doing, but Sebastian couldn't resist Blaine when he was having fun, when he being adorable and a selfish part of him was getting an eyefull of Blaine's flawless dancing.

Stuck in his state of happy misery, Blaine caught the eye of the innkeeper, a curly-haired man who he judged to be in his early thirties. At first Sebastian only noticed that he was attracted (but he came nowhere close to Blaine, of course) and that he was busy behind the counter, but then he realized that he kept shooting the two of them looks. It wasn't flirting and it wasn't dislike, but it sent a shiver up Sebastian's spine.

The night wore on and as the other patrons went to bed and Blaine, now thoroughly drunk but calm…ish, sat in the chair next to Sebastian, strumming his lute and tapping his feet as he worked on writing a new song, the lyrics of which were both dirty and immature. It was then that the innkeeper sat down in the chair opposite Sebastian. He learned forward and in a low, conspiratory voice, he muttered,

"Is either of your two gentlemen Harry Freakin' Potter?"

"He's a twelve-year-old superhero…I'm just an eleven-year-old child!" A drunken Blaine complained, then he went on composing his immature song.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian apologized, "He's had a little too much to drink tonight."

"Oh, I saw." The man replied, "But my business is with you tonight." Sebastian looked up, the man paused, "You're a wizard Sebastian."

The world stood still for a moment as Sebastian's mouth fell open in shock. It did explain a lot, things in this childhood: how whenever he reached an emotional high. Like when he was angry with his cousins at the dinnertable and their plates flew up and hit them in their faces or that time when he walked in on his master and his wife and they were having violent sex and so water flooded through their bedroom, washing all the nastiness away and yet the rest of their freezing, un-hygenic medieval dwelling remained dry.

"I'm a what?" He asked, his mouth dry.

"Wait, did I say wizard? I meant to say you're a Hufflepuff." The curly-haired man responded.

"What the hell is a Hufflepuff?" Sebastian demanded, non-plussed.

"Hell if I know!" The innkeeper said, shrugging. "Shit, it's a full moon out, so I'm going to go outside, strip and transform into a fucking werewolf."

With a collective gasp, Sebastian and Blaine clapped their hands over their ears. The innkeeper ammended his previous statement.

"I mean…poopy. I should watch my damn mouth around you little bastards! Fuck!" He noticed his body hair was increasing and his teeth were lengthening. "Well, I'd better be going! Time for me to go be a monster. Byyyeeee!" And with that, the strange man turned and ran out of his inn.

It took a moment for Sebastian to process what had just happened, but Blaine had other ideas.

"Hey Sebastian." Blaine said, much louder than necessary, a stupid grin plastered across his face.

"Yes Your Highness?"

"Listen, I want to play this song that I've been working on. I met this guy that I really, really like and I want to let him know that he's really special." Sebastian caught his breath, "So I just want to know what you think," He barely suppressed a whimper of excitement and hope. "And anyway, I'm going to put your name where his name should be, for now, 'kay?"

Sebastian nodded, unable to speak. This must mean…must mean…of course he could "substitute" his name in for another guy's, it was the romantic way of doing things. And with than, the drunken, slurring prince began to strum his lute, singing along.

"You're tall and fun and pretty,

You're really, really skinny…Sebastian,

You're the Minnie to my Mickey,

You're the Tigger to my Winnie, Sebastian!

Wanna take you to city,

Gonna take you out to dinnie, Sebastian!

You're cuter than a ginea pig,

Wanna take you up the Winniepeg,

That's in Canada!

Oh Sebastian, 'bastian, 'bastian."

Sebastian was floating on cloud nine. Blaine, his master, the Prince of Brittania, had written him a love song! He was in esctasy, moments from jumping out his chair and screaming like a little girl before pouncing on Blaine and accepting his proprosal of marriage, but then Blaine stopped singing and playing abruptly.

"You know, this just isn't working for me…but how does that make you feel—emotionally?"

Sebastian was so in love that he noticed nothing.

"Wowwwiiieeee! Blaine Freaken' Anderson!" Was all he managed.

"So…you think it could make a guy fall in love me?"

"I think it already has." Sebastian purred, as drunk on love as his master was on alcohol, as he leaned in close.

"Awesome!" Blaine proclaimed, jumping up from his chair and singing his lute around to the his back so he could carry it up the stairs. "'Cause it's for Will Shuester!"

….

As Sebastian later learned, Will Shuester was the name of the the potty-mouthed werewolf innkeeper. And after Sebastian had guided his master up the stairs to their room, ("But I wanna slide down the banister? Can I? Pplllleeeeaaassssseeee?") made him get ready for bed ("I'm the prince and my penis is bigger than my dad's!") and finally got him to sleep, ("I love my Willy Shue! Did I tell you he's a werewolf?") Sebastian was wallowing in self-pity and his own tears in the privacy of his oh-so-separate bed. It was then that a disembodied voice caught Sebastian's attention.

"Sebastian…Sebastian…Sebastian…"

He had a high-pitched, chipmunky voice and at first Sebastian thought he was having a religious awakening with a helium-sniffing diety.

"Oh Dadga, is that you? I am here, your disembodied godliness!"

"Sebastian, get your self-pitying Hufflepuff ass out of that Blaine-less bed and meet me under the tree, right under the full moon, and step on it!"

Under the full moon…so, that Will Shuester character wanted to duel it out for Blaine's affections, did he? Well, Blaine was a Hufflepuff (whatever that meant) and Hufflepuffs should be…do awesome things…and should not take crap from werewolves!

So he pulled on his clothes and after sneaking out of the inn, he made his way through the mud and under the tree under the full moon. The sound of Will the werewolf's howling echoed through the night and Sebastian shivered a little, retreating into his coat, until he remembered that Will Shuester was an asshole with a pottymouth and too much hair and he straightened his spine.

"Hey you…with the horse teeth!" Sebastian looked around, keeping his eyes peeled for the large, hulking figure of a werewolf. "Were you the result of Daniel Radcliffe having sex with horses or were both your parents hillbillies?" The disembodied voice asked. "I hate to break it to you, but that face just isn't doing it for you."

"Where are you?" Sebastian demanded, his voice rising and his temper slipping from his grasp.

"In the tree, pea-brain."

Sebastian looked up to see a small, fluffyy white rabbit with wings and a wide grin plastered across its face. It was cute in a frightening, morbid way, what with it's large, pointed fangs that were dripping blood onto its snow-white coat.

"Good grief, Charlie Brown, took you long enough."

"Um…" Sebastian started, searching for the right, no, fuck the right words, _any_ words, "…So you're a bunny?"

The bunny looked offended. "I am the Chesire-Killer Rabbit." She said, rolling her eyes. "I kill people and then smile about it. The people I don't immediately send to join the choir invisible call me Sue and I am a hate coach in my spare time."

"A hate coach?" Sebastian asked, barely processing all of this.

"I coach people on how to cultivate their feelings of hate and then bring said hateful thoughts into reality."

"'Kay…" Was all Sebastian could manage.

"But that's not why I'm here tonight, Gay-Face. I'm here to tell you that you're the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth. So protect Blaine with your life, because he's going to one day be the great king of all of Albion."

"Um…"

"He will do this by pulling a magical golden toilet plunger, Excaliber, out of the magical silver Toilet of Destiny. This toilet is guarded by the most powerful members of the fae: the sidhe of the Seelie Court."

"But—"

"Listen, Horse-Teeth, this is very important. Excaliber is very powerful, but it will also pull the life-force away from its owner after a few fornights. Immediately after Blaine is crowned king, you must being Excaliber to me. Understood?"

"Or what?" Sebastian challenged. "Wait…how do I even know this is real? How do I know that you're not full of crap? How do I know you just want to lead him into a trap and eat him?"

"Because if you fail, I will cut off your manhood and munch it like a carrot. If you succeed, I'll present you with a love potion so strong it would make you obsessed with boobies, if you wanted it to. And that potion will be yours."

"Wait…I don't want to _force_ anyone into loving me!

"Oh, Princypants does love you. He just needs to a push in the right direction." Sue purred.

"Really?" Sebastian demanded, before he could stop himself, his face lighting up and his eyes becoming huge like a puppy.

"Oh yes, you two will be doing the mattress dance in his royal kingly bedchamber before the year is out. Now go forth and go chomp some manparts with those horse teeth of yours."

And with that, Sue vanished in a puff of green smoke.

For a moment, Sebastian just stood there in shock. So, just to review for a minute, he had just been told by a talking bunny-rabbit that he was the great sorcerer on earth, that he had go seek out faeries who posessed magical toilets and toilet accessories and that…Blaine was in love with him… He was lost in his reverie for a long time, just standing in the moonlight.

He heard a menacing growl behind him. Ah crap, the moonlight.

He spun around and felt fear coursing through him as he came nose-to-nose with Will Shuester the werewolf.


	4. In Which There Is Sex, Sex, Sex! Not

**Sorry for not updating for awhile. Life happened and I got writers' block. By the way, I have no idea where this story is going. I'm thinking about starting a second one, a less sarcastic one, perhaps a drama or romantic comedy. Dramedy? I'm definitely going to set it in an AU setting, but I'm still narrowing down the list. I might also write a one-shot, or a couple of one-shots, one cute, one smutty, then see the reactions I get on both and compare them during a highly scientific process known as-I'll shut up. Message me or review with thoughts, please.**

**By this point, you're probably all wondering, "where the Hufflepuff is the Klaine?" It's coming (and cumming). Fear not! Kurt and Blaine must fine each other and then, BAM! Sexual tension! Then they must fall in love and everything is sweet and romantic for awhile and then they grant their hands permission to travel south of the equator and then...I won't tell you what happens, but Kurt has something to say about it and they all move on with their lives!**

**I do not own Glee...or Harry Potter, or AVPM/AVPS...or Firefly...not even Firefly.**

I had long-since sorted out the issue of the snooze button, everyone had arisen and I was putting the finishing touches on my chestnut hair that I was so proud of—No, I don't have a problem! I refuse to accept or acknowledge that I have a problem!—when Rachel came whining to me for the third time that day…and it wasn't even about anything new.

"Kkkuuurrrrrttttt! Excaliber!"

Exaliber, as you may have already guessed, is a magical golden toilet plunger that is stuck through a golden toilet. It possesses many magical powers, but it is known throughout the land to be a sort of male performance enhancement…permanently…and in the best way. Oh, and whomever can pull it out of the magical toilet is the rightful king of all the land and will rule wisely and fairly and never die, blah, blah, blah. But no one really knows or cares about that. All anyone ever talks about is it's schrincter-engorgement powers. You see, it's been stuck in that golden toilet for many years know, since before I was born because, see, we like things the way they are. Having a king, a mortal king, would not only mean we'd start having to listen to what he tells us, but it would be below our dignity. Besides, we like eing privileged and looking down on the peasants, the middle class and even mortal royalty itself. Therefore, we kept Excaliber hidden safely away in a place known as the Chamberpot of Secrets. Even Rachel had never been there. Her mother had, but the woman had forsaken her immortality for this one human and then sailed off to join him ruling his city…where she discovered he was cheating on her with a castle intern mere months later. Anyway, long story short, Excaliber was missing, by word of the guard and Rachel, being the queen, was the seventeenth person to be informed.

You see, being queen of the faeries isn't a big deal. Basically all you are is a puppet for the council to manipulate, although Rachel did quite a good job of just assuming power…and therefore gaining it by proclaiming her genius talent to everyone. Still, the point was, Excaliber, the source of all acceptable schong-lengths was gone. And no one knew where it was.

"We're calling an emergency meeting of the fae." I said, giving my hair a final touch. There, perfect. "Fifteen minutes, in the faery circle."

Forty-five minutes later, the Seelie Council was seated around the faery circle. There had been a solid half hour of theories, proposals, arguments and Rachel's bitch-fit, the result of which was now lying broken on the floor. We weren't getting anywhere. Finally Tina, the strange girl who thought she was a vampire, spoke up.

"I think we need new guards."

There was silence for a moment. Then everyone cheered in approval.

"Guards aren't the problem," I snapped, "Everything was locked when Excaliber was missing. It just…disappeared."

"Yes, but think about it! New guards, with nice, shiny uniforms!" Sam encouraged.

"Shiny!" Was all Rory had to contribute. Why was he even here?

I rolled my eyes. This was the governing force for a land of misguided peasants who blindly believed in our power? No wonder mortality was so stupid…look at what they had to look up to. These faeries were a joke, a disgrace to the name of Fae. It was, quite frankly, embarrassing for me to be seen in their presence.

"I'm bored." Quinn complained, forever apathetic about Excaliber, even though it promised to extend and thicken the private parts of the Chosen One. "I've been reading this great new book, it's called the Bible, and it's about this great new religion called Christianity. I think we should all convert, give the mortals a little more on their plates. You see, it preaches love, forgiveness, mercy, celibacy and—"

Although the faerie court had all been listening intently to her words, they instantly erupted in protests.

"No sex?" "No way!" "What is this supposed to be, a futuristic play about teenagers who all randomnly break into song and then don't have sex?"

I crossed my legs and crossed my arms. Really, this was ridiculous. So they called me a prude, so they told me I didn't know what I was missing and that I would be singing a different tune as soon as someone deflowered me. I didn't care. My views aren't changing…and they never will. Sex is over-rated, unsanitarily, looks extremely painful and it's just plain gross. The mere thought of…whatever happens…is…is…NO. Okay, so I don't know the exact details…and I don't want to! I know it involves taking off all your clothes and then pressing your genitals together and somehow, if it was a male and a female, the woman sometimes got pregnant. The end. I knew too much already and I sure as hell didn't care about Excaliber, except that it was a sort of national symbol!

Sam stood up.

"Well, I'm off to go get laid!" He announced. Rory whinned pitifully and covered his crotch with his tasteless choice in—can I even call it fashion?—of a hat. And that's when I lost it. Between the toilet plunger that was our national symbol, the stupid leprechaun hat and all the mindless sex.

"WHORES! YOU'RE ALL MINDLESS WHORES! Look at you, sex this, sex that, sex, sex, sex. I'm surprised that you aren't all popping out babies and the Council isn't twice as big as it is now, but I suppose that's a loss because then your babies could be having sex with each other and then we could have lovely, sexy incest! Oh, I love me some good incest! I'll take some mindless sex, with some horniness on the side and some incest for dessert! If you could only see yourselves right now! I can't begin to claim to have the 'experience' you have, but I'm willing to bet your most mind-blowing sex doesn't feel as good as it does to be a virgin right now. So we'll you're all obsessing and giving into your self-enslaving hormones, I'm off to problem-solve, be diplomatic and save the day. That's right, bitches, while you're obsessing over sex, sex, sex, I'll be off being the big, damn hero!"

I stood there, panting heavily, one hand raised in the air. There was silence as every member of the Seelie Court stared at me. And then Sam opened his big mouth. No, really, his mouth is huge.

"Kurt, you rrreeaaaalllllllllllyyy need to learn to masturbate."

A moment. I shook with anger. How could they not see that they were slaves to their hormones? We had an alarm clock you controlled by squeezing her very boobs, for Dadga's sake! We were a joke. Then I screamed.

"I'M IN A RAGE! THIS IS THE MADDEST I'VE EVER BEEN!"

And with that, I stormed out.

I don't quite know when I had crossed the border between Otherworld and the mortal realm, but it was instantly cold and I wrapped my arms around myself, regretting not bringing a coat. It was freezing and my faerie skin was no match for the nipping snow that all the humans endured. I trudged on until it started to get dark. Right, well, I was getting nowhere, so I might as well turn around, go back there and deal with the sex addicts.

So I did just that. I turned around and trotted back from whence I had come.

After awhile, I made a mental note that the mortal realm had a lot of the very same tree and every so often, the same, distinct rock would pop up and how interesting that there were footprints in the snowy mud that was barefooted and looked exactly like…like..like…

Dragonshit.

I was going in circles. And it was getting darker. And colder. I was a farie, in the mortal realm, maybe even in hostile mortal territory. And faeries…we aren't exactly _nice_ to the mortals one hundred percent of the time and therefore, when they caught one of us they would sometimes return the favor…in fact, usually, unless we promised them money, power or…sex.

I decided I would weather the night in a tree, but then decided against it, for the sap would undoubtedly ruin my clothes and the branches would mess up my hair, so I settled against a rock instead and distracted myself by finding the constellations in the sky. Celtic constellations, mind you. Do you really think the Greeks get credit for everything cool?

The night passed slowly, miserably. I huddled there, cursing the stupid faeries who called themselves the Seelie Court. Couldn't we have dignity? Couldn't we sit together and create beauty and art and appreciate the world we had been gifted with? But no, we we limited to three topics: sex, sex, sex.

I started to get warm and against my will, I was tugged into sleep. Then I got warmer as two strong arms picked me up and held me. I snuggled into something warm and mumured as I gave up all resistence and slipped into sleep.


End file.
